We Can have It
by Green1
Summary: Yuuram, Muraram. Wolfram observes Yuuri's wedding and gets through the horrible day with a little help.


-1author: FurryGreen

rating: Teen

disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maoh. There's that. I always give a blanket warning that most, if not all, of my characters are OOC. Don't say I didn't warn you. And, yes yes, I know my writing has all the gusto of a fifth grader. I apologize for this story being murky. What can I say? I'm just a hack. '' The title came from the song 'We Can Have It', by The Dears

WE CAN HAVE IT

"Last night all the horrible

Things in life

Start through my dreams and

I just want to shine it up,

Shine it down or shine off"

-We Can Have It, by The Dears

Flowers, flowers, FLOWERS! This damned castle is swarming with flowers like plaque victims, each coughing up scented air meant to chock and sicken one. It's disgusting, really, seeing the severed heads for dozens and dozens of different varieties, some stuck to wreaths, some in vase, but all with the heads open, petals reaching skyward as if pleading for help. Or, maybe those spidery little outstretched arms of theirs are meant to trap one, hold one down until something evil comes by and digs out your heart with a dull spoon.

That's how I feel, at least, though I suppose those monsters would have a trouble finding my heart. It's already been dug out and jumped upon.

I'm running through the castle now, here dodging a soldier carrying chairs for the ceremony and there dodging little children who giggle in excitement for the wedding: the wonderful wedding between their wonderful King and their wonderful new Queen, Lady Jolene (who, of course, everyone loves, unlike me.) Why would they like me, an old used Prince, when they have a woman who kisses orphan's cheeks and cries when she sees where old men sleep? Even if it is all for show -- and they know it as well as I -- that doesn't matter.

I have done things that matter! I have fought for this country, fought for the life of the fabled King. I've saved many men, but I supposed the number of lives saved is nothing to the number of dirty baby cheeks kissed.

I slow when I finally find him. My breath traps in my throat and I feel I might indeed die right there and now by chocking, instead the noble method of bridge jumping. He affects me like usual: first I see his dark hair, bushy and unkempt, and I want to run my hands through it. I love the feel of his hair, especially on my belly. I think it's one of the most wonderful things in the world. His back is to me and I notice his broad shoulders. I don't even need to close my eyes anymore to see those strong muscles working under the tanned skin, that kissable skin.

Am I a horrible kisser? I think quiet suddenly, as I see him lean into Lady Jolene, his body quivering with laughter. Is that why I'm not 'good enough' for him? Was he just lying, trying to spare my feelings, when he said it felt good? That I was the best he'd ever had (though, I know for certain, his experience is quite limited)?

He turns to her and I can see your profile, the strong arch of his nose. How many times have I...

I shake my head. These kinds of thoughts are horrible. They defeat me before I've even come to the bridge. I wanted to get one last glimpse of him before I jumped and this was that. I should...

He notices me and for a moment, his eyes and mind lock. I can't turn away from those dark depths until he does. I want him to look at me with that kind of love and laughter. I want...

Guilt and... disgust?

It is all I can do to keep the hysterical laughter inside. Another coffin nail, I suppose, and I know now that I am thoroughly beaten. I can't fight this. I never stood a change against Lady Jolene, baby kissing and all around saint. I don't even have the strength needed to climb the railing and through my miserable self into blessed darkness.

How could he look at me like that? He, who just yesterday, climbed into my bed complaining of all those ills he suffers for the wedding and a demanding fiancé? He didn't find it disgusting when I wove my hands through his hair or when we...

"Lord von Bielfield," says a smooth voice behind me, breaking me from my thoughts.

I turn slowly, knowing it's Murata, the all-mighty Sage. It's just hard to rip my glaze off Yuuri. Yuuri, Yuuri, even the thought of his name makes me quiver. "What?"

He laughs and claps my back. I notice his eyes sweeping my field of vision before he turns me completely and it's then that I notice the anger in the lines of his forehead before he smoothes them away. He seems older just then, for a moment. With a hand still firmly slug across my shoulder, he pulled me along with him. "I thought maybe you'd want to get drunk."

"Drunk?" I laugh. "I never get drunk."

He stops, stopping me, and stares down into my face. "For tomorrow, at least. Let's get drunk tomorrow."

I shake my head and his hand off my shoulder. "No."

He studies me. "Why would you want to be sober for the wedding?"

Without another word, I turn and leave him. Those dark eyes, so similar to his yet vastly different, burn into my back as I go. They bring a different kind of longing.

--

"What were you two talking about?" Yuuri ask, perched on the edge of by bed, buttoning up his shirt.

"Hm," I mutter.

He turns then, buttons half done, leaving me an expanse of smooth skin to admire and wish was mine. I turn and looked up into his face, that indeed was a hardship for me, and I notice the strong look in his eyes. "What?" I say.

"Murata. He had his arm around your shoulder."

No, this wasn't jealousy. I know that now, no matter how I've tried to delude myself in the past. The corners of my lips curve upward in a humorless, self-ridiculing smile. "Nothing," I say. "He was just trying to be... sagey, I guess."

The rest of the buttons finish quickly after that and he pauses by the door, as he bends over to toe on his shoes. "You know he admires you," he says. "It's nothing really. You just look a lot like Shinou."

I shrug.

"I'm just saying." He seems to wait for a response I'm not willing to give. He sighs. "Why won't you come with us? It'll be fun."

With that, I sit up. "I'm not coming with you on your honeymoon," I scorn. Fun? Fun for who? How can you be so cruel? I wish he would stop taunting me like this. I turn over to my side and there I remain, until the door clicks after he leaves.

--

I survived the wedding, I think, as I watch the wedding caravan head into the proverbial distance. I'm one of many, mostly servants, watching after the King and new Queen. The hangover headache prevents me from feeling too horrible about not being in that carriage. Most of my hurt feelings are too busy working above my shoulders to be in my chest right now.

"Well, that's all done for," says Murata, turning to me. He's supported me this whole time and now I see a flicker of... something in his eyes.

I would push him away but I can't; it's this headache, this hurt headache and quezy stomach, that's it. I can't stand on my own. It's his fault and I'll be damned if he doesn't pay the consequences. So I stand and look at him, studying him in turn.

He flashes me a smile. "Come to the shrine with me," he says. "We have need for someone of your skills."

It's all I can do to arch a brow. "What kind of skills?" Suspicious.

He looks sheepish. "We have, ah, these strange monsters that are attacking us. They can only be defeated by the fire attacks of spoiled ex-Princes." He stratches his head. "I've found those kinds of fire wielders are hard to find."

I stare. He stares back. And suddenly, I feel something bubble from within me, something long forgotten. I throw my head back and laugh, laugh until I start to cry and I can't stand anymore. Murata kneels and covers me, wrapping me in a strong embrace, shielding me from those critical eyes who are all too happy to see my tears, to hear my wails, happy that the spoiled little Prince is finally beaten.

I snuffle. "I didn't think I could cry." I pull away to look up into his eyes. "I thought Yuuri destroyed my heart." I start crying again, but somehow I feel better.

He frames my face with his hands, callused thumbs brushing my cheeks clear of tears. "I love your laugh," he says, leaning in sweep a butterfly kiss against my lips. I smell his heady scent, so unlike Yuuri. My head swims, but I know that's because of the hangover. "Say you'll come with me and take care of those monsters. Be happy with me, Wolf."

I swallow and nod. "Bring on those evil monsters. I think I'm enough of a brat to take them on."

And now Murata laughs and I smile, and for just that brief moment, I feel alright. That, no doubt, is also due to the hangover. He helps me up and keeps a hand on my forearm, supporting me, as he leads me to my room to start packing.

DONE

Yay for Oneshot! I love writing oneshots! ;D


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